


To Waste a Breath on Words

by SpaghettiCanActivist



Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: Angst Wagon, Author is a terrible person who enjoys angst too much, Citadel of Ricks, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Rick isn't a total dirtbag, pre-season 3
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-04
Updated: 2017-08-23
Packaged: 2018-11-23 11:58:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11401959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpaghettiCanActivist/pseuds/SpaghettiCanActivist
Summary: Rick and Morty go on another of their adventures, except this time something happens which causes Morty to shut down and refuse to speak. Rick finds himself pressed to fix it before he loses Morty. No pairings.





	1. Chapter 1

"Talk, talk, talk: the utter and heart breaking stupidity of words."

-William Faulkner

 

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

Rick glared at his surroundings, annoyance peaking as he saw a Rick from another dimension shoving merchandise of Morty into the faces of some other Rick's. His own Morty was trailing behind him, eyes wide as they were every time they came to the Citadel of Ricks. For once though, they had traveled here of their own free will. The citadel of Ricks was the safest place in the multi-verse if you could get in and were welcome, there wasn't a better place to have an illegal arms deal, something which Rick C-137 had arranged with a buyer here.

He stopped suddenly and Morty walked into him.

"S-stay here, Morty, s-stay at that-that, the stupid cafe, stay there till I come back, Morty."

Morty frowned, looking over at the Rickbucks store, he was about to say something in response but Rick shoved some Rickcash into his hand.

"Go masturbate, or so-something."

"Rick, w-where are you going?"

Rick ignored Morty and strode away, Morty could only watch forlornly as his grandfather disappeared in a throng of Ricks and Mortys. Morty stood, staring at the place where he had lost sight of his grandfather, wondering why he was so easy to leave behind.

Morty turned toward the cafe and sat down, peering at the money in his hand before letting out a sigh and sitting down at an empty table. The minutes passed quickly and Morty was just sitting there, too creeped out by the way his face was everywhere, on the beings around him and plastered on the walls in forms of commercials.

He was surprised when three other Morty's slid into the seats next to him, adolescent voices pitching in conversation.

"Hey, l-look at this Morty," one of them spoke, this Morty had long hair which was braided back and was wearing a skirt and tank top despite the fact that Morty could tell that he was male.

"Be nice, Theta-1047, he looks new."

The other Morty cut in, a version of Morty that apparently had come out female. The last Morty had a lollipop in his mouth, one eye a brilliant blue while the other was brown.

"I am, Q-9, we just don't get new Morty's much anymore, a majority of Rick present dimensions with intelligence enough to create a portal gun have been integrated into the Citadel, you can't blame me for being interested."

Morty took his opportunity to smile weakly and stutter out a small greeting.

"Where's your Rick?" Q-9, the girl Morty, asked.

"Busy."

They all nodded like that was the most natural thing in the world. The Morty with the lollipop pulled the candy out of his mouth and spoke,

"Nice when a Rick leaves, a few dumbass Morty's actually like having their Ricks around,"

"O-oh," Morty said, acting as though he understood what they were talking about.

"Yeah," Theta-1047 said, the one in girl's clothing, "when my Rick isn't around I have a lot of fun, I mean, we know they don't really give a shit about Mortys, a few do but they're weird. By the way,"

Theta-1047 said, turning to Morty, "which dimension are you from, I don't think we got your name."

"C-137."

The response was instantaneous, the pleasant smiles vanished and a slight look of awe and disgust came onto their faces.

"Oh." Theta-1047 said, "that's uh, that's nice."

The insincere response was followed by an awkward silence. The lollipop Morty stood and the other two followed, walking away. Morty watched them leave and let out a sigh. He hated the Citadel of Ricks.

Standing, he decided he didn't want to stay at the cafe, besides, Rick was probably going to be gone for a long time. Morty began walking down the main way, a few Ricks looking curiously at him. He was looking to the side when a hand roughly gripped his upper arm and yanked him. Morty let out a scream, looking at whoever had grabbed him, it was a Rick, but definitely not his Rick.

Morty kept screaming, but no one seemed to care, because for all they knew it was just another Rick and Morty. Morty struck out at the Rick, trying to free himself. The hold tightened and Morty was back handed. Morty felt himself be thrown up against a wall, blinking away his spinning vision he saw two Ricks standing over him. He had been dragged into an alley.

"It's friggin' C-137's Morty." One of the Ricks said, a malicious grin splitting his face.

"I to-told ya, JP-98, I told you it was him."

Morty pressed himself against the wall, breathing harshly and eyes widened in terror.

"W-what do you want?" Morty demanded.

They ignored him, still turned to each other.

"Can't believe the bastard l-left him alone, just our f-friggin' luck."

Morty started to edge away, planning on making a break for it. One of the Ricks saw and grabbed Morty slamming him back against the wall.

"Where do you think you're going?"

The Rick pressed against Morty, his forearm digging into Morty's throat and the other hand now had a knife in it.

"Little shit, trying to sneak off, should I cut him, make him not be able to leave?"

Morty tried to beg, anything to get the knife away from him, but the arm pressed against his throat left him barely able to breathe, let alone talk. The Rick looked back at the other Rick and they chuckled to each other.

"Dunno, may-maybe we should have some fun first, huh JP-98?"

The Rick that was holding Morty down looked back at Morty, the grin on his face growing.

Rick had left Morty behind because he wanted him to be safe, he had never met this buyer and anyone wanting to buy weapons from Rick wasn't exactly safe. It was more than that though, Rick knew he was disliked by most governments in the multi-verse, he'd made a lot of enemies, he couldn't be sure that this 'deal' wasn't some sort of set up. He had too many experiences that had lead to him bleeding and nearly dead because of an asshole who had set him up.

So he'd left Morty behind, probably in one of the safest places for a Morty. Walking away from the cafe he made his way through the crowd before doubling back. He didn't want Morty following him and he wanted to make sure that Morty was okay, Morty was seated at a table at the cafe by himself, the Rickcash still clenched in a fist and his gaze far off.

That was safe enough for Rick so he continued on his way, headed to the seedier parts of the Citadel of Ricks. Generally most of the Citadel had pretty strict rules when it came to most things, however on the outskirts the more deviant Ricks upheld the more, so to say, unsavory activities. Ricks did what they wanted when they wanted. A look of disgust crept on his face as a Morty jaunted toward him, obviously offering himself.

Rick brushed him off by continuing to walk on, other Ricks were slouching around, the streets were dirtier here, littered with trash and filth. The Mortys were either sensuous of bedraggled but very few of them were in the area whereas there were a greater number of Ricks. As far as Rick knew the Morty Protective Services (MPS) would have most of the Mortys on the streets here cleaned up and taken care of. Most Ricks may not give a shit about Mortys but they were friggin' serious about having a shield, their most important asset aside from the inter-dimensional portal gun.

Needless to say, seeing the Mortys acting as prostitutes or the ones obviously Rickless or abused left a pit in his gut which he decidedly ignored, eyes and mind averting from it all. Rick continued on his way, making his way through the streets, till he came to some sort of pub named Halfway Rick. Rick stepped in, glancing around the room, taking in the multiple Ricks seated at the tables along with a few other beings and a Morty which was working as a waiter.

His potential buyer had given him a description, red ball cap, far left of the room in the corner. Rick looked and there was a Rick, red ball cap on his head and in the far left corner. Rick made his way over, sliding into the booth.

"Rick."

The Rick opposite of him looked up, eyes a glittering blue and with a thick scar that started at his left brow and ran down till yielding at his chin, just avoiding his eye and curving so it crossed the most prominent part of his cheekbone.

"Cappa, just cappa. You don't really know the lingo, do you? You're actually, well- him, the one."

Rick raised a brow, when he said 'the one' he meant about Rick being the only rogue Rick there was. There wasn't amazement or awe in the Cappa Rick's tone, more of disgust and mild interest. This Rick didn't have a lisp and his eyes were too clear for him to be inebriated.

"Wh-wh-wh-wh…" The Morty had approached, thin and obviously abused with a white apron tied over his dirty yellow shirt. His speech impediment was much more pronounced than Rick's Morty, voice a near whisper.

"Scram you piece of shit, bring us some regular and don't hang around."

The Morty didn't even try to respond, instead he ran off, shaking in fear. The Cappa Rick shook his head in disgust, looking over at Rick.

"Can't even talk, Mortys are friggin' useless, worthless shit only good for their brain waves."

Rick didn't respond to the comment about Mortys, making sure to keep his face neutral rather than letting his lip curl and anger show.

"I-I thought you were a buyer."

"I am."

Rick shook his head, "You're a Rick, what the hell do you need me for? You can make anything I can offer, in fact you'd have a hell of a lot better time picking up materials than I would being in the Citadel."

The Cappa Rick shook his head, mouth opening to respond when the Morty came back, two large cups in hand, arms trembling so badly that the liquid was splashing onto the floor. He set them down and scurried off as the Cappa Rick sent him a deadly stare.

"I'm under suspicion," the Cappa Rick spoke as if that explained everything.

When Rick didn't show comprehension the Cappa Rick continued.

"It's a council order, any Rick who breaks certain rules gets a microchip implanted in them to monitor whatever diverging behavior is causing a problem. You got under suspicion for incestuous Ricks, microchips implanted for a six month period which ensures the behavior cannot be pursued and then you have Ricks like me, willing to break the molds of science and punished for thinking freely."

Rick read that as the Rick in front of him doing very very bad stuff with his inventions, mass killing stuff or risky entire galaxy destruction stuff. This Cappa Rick was a real bastard.

"In short, I can't invent stuff, can't build, can't even try to write up blue prints. I've got five years like this, a possible parole with parameters. I can't live like this so I figured a Rick like you would help me out."

Rick paused, not responding because he wanted to think about this and because he wanted to make this Cappa Rick squirm, wanted to see him desperate.

"N-no can do."

The reaction was instantaneous, outrage came onto the Cappa Rick's face along with anger.

"So what? You'll leave a Rick in the lurch? You'll help out this shitty Citadel? I thought you were against all that?"

Rick rose, disappointed by how this had all turned out. He walked out, ignoring the thrown insults and yells. He wasn't going to have his hands in this mess, not with a Rick who would flip him to make a few bucks and didn't have any turn out to offer that Rick couldn't find anywhere else. He let out a sigh when he got out of the pub, he'd wasted a lot of time and had risked going about in the Citadel for a dud job. Pulling out his flask he took a swig and began walking, it was time to get Morty and head home, call his losses and enjoy the rest of the day.

Morty had tried to tune it all out, tried to ignore all of the things the two Ricks had done, those familiar, callused hands hurting him and violating him. The worst part though was the words, things spoken and thrown out with deliberate vituperative tones, words meant to break a person. And break he did, sobbing and crying, they had dragged him to a rent-a-room before doing anything real serious, other Ricks would only abide so much.

At the end, they cleaned him up, using some kind of healing gel that made all the wounds and bruises disappear. They washed him up and forced a new yellow shirt on him along with new pants, words all the while continuing to break him. Finally though, they pushed him out, gruffly pointing him in the direction of the cafe before heading off, cruel laughter being the last thing Morty experienced of them.

He'd started walking in the direction they had given when Rick had shown up,

"W-where the hell were you, Morty? I-I told you to stay, stay at the cafe, Morty, you little shit."

Morty flinched at the insult and Rick's eyes narrowed. Morty didn't have any injuries, no wounds, clothing and hair all normal. The only thing was off was the wide, glazed look in his eyes and the way he held himself. Whatever Rick had been planning on saying next died on his lips. Great, another emotionally traumatized Morty. He roughly grabbed Morty's wrist, yanking him back towards where his ship was parked. Rick ignored the pit in his stomach which formed when Morty flinched just a little from the hold, he loosened it just a bit.

By the time they got to the ship, Rick's mind was elsewhere. They got in and shut the doors, kicking a few beer bottles away from his gas and break pedals. A few minutes into the trip, Rick frowned, an unfamiliar smell making its way past the overwhelming smell of alcohol which accompanied him everywhere. If he was honest, the smell wasn't unfamiliar so much as unusual, one he couldn't quite place but which he recognized as coming from Morty, a smell he had registered but not noticed when he had first met up with Morty.

It made the pit in his stomach grow and he frowned despite himself, glancing over at his grandson, Morty was hunched over in the seat, arms wrapped around himself. This was just the usual emotional trauma, he'd probably met an incestuous Rick who had scared him but not hurt him, or maybe he'd met an alternate self which had freaked him out. That was all menial stuff, things he could fix by ignoring or giving Morty a small sort of compliment. Rick decided to ignore the part of him which told him that this was different.

The feeling stayed all on the way back, seeming to grow into a black pit of anxiety, worry and foreboding. When they got back, Rick realized for the first time that Morty hadn't spoken a single word since they had met back up, the feeling in his stomach grew


	2. Chapter 2

The next morning, Morty didn't show up at the breakfast table. Jerry was too preoccupied in his own current woes of unemployment to blame Rick, and Summer had her phone in hand. Beth seemed to be in a more reconciling mood, not outright asking her father about her son but rather sending him furtive glances.

The table was tense and awkward, Jerry ignorantly prattling on about how terrible his last job interview had gone. Rick sighed, appetite gone. He smiled fakely and stood up, his fork clattering on the plate.

"G-good breakfast, Beth, reaaal good."

He saw his daughter smile, eyes tearing with the simple compliment.

"Thanks, dad." Her voice was it's usual adoring tone.

Rick started to walk away, headed for the garage, when Beth spoke again.

"Was Morty okay, yesterday?" The question was hesitant and concerned, a mother worried about her son and a daughter terrified of scaring her father away.

"Yeah, of course he was, I k-keep Morty safe, he's alright. Wh-what kind of grandpa do you think I am?"

Beth's gaze fell, the part of her the little girl that was abandoned beating out the worried mother.

"Of course, I know you take care of Morty."

Jerry let out a derisive snort, "I don't want to beat a dead horse, Beth, but we have this conversation every morning. Your dad is not a good influence on our son."

"T-takes one to know one, Jerrry. What k-kind of example do you set, huh, Jerry, huh, setting your son up to be jobless and dependent, depend on, on his daughter for spending money, huh Jeeerrrry."

Jerry's face flushed with anger.

"Dad!" Beth cried in remonstration.

Summer let out a scoff of disgust and stood up, leaving to the front room with a mutter under her breath about not being hungry.

Rick left the destruction in his wake, breakfast officially ruined and ignoring Jerry's shouts after him. In the garage he began fiddling with his portal gun, he'd been working on formulating a way to make it more energy efficient, hopefully, if he was successful, this would deal with anymore incidents where they ran out of charge while on an adventure.

With half-hearted interest he heard the car start up twenty minutes later and pull out of the drive, unintelligible voices drifting into the garage. He knew it was Jerry taking the kids to school, however he found himself disappointed to not hear Morty's high and pubescent voice among them.

Rick was pretty good at timing adventures, always before lunch because he was well aware that lunch was the time in which Morty usually got bullied the most, bruises marring his skin and shoulders hunched on the days Rick failed to show up. Rick would solve all Morty's problems for him but then again, most of the time he was too drunk to process much beyond where his mind took him. The problems of an adolescent weren't high on his list of to do. Didn't mean he liked seeing bruises on Morty though.

That was the thing though, Rick thought absently as he opened a portal into Morty's math class, quickly grabbing his grandson and pulling through another portal, this time Morty didn't have any bruises, but his face said he did.

The portal took them to the high spired city on the planet Kluck Klucky. It was populated by a group of mutant chickens, all beady eyed and suspicious, easy to upset but generally pretty harmless since they viewed humans as spineless cowards, animals far beneath them. The buildings were huge spirals rising into the sky, a brilliant spread of colors as the light flashed off of their nacreous material.

Rick smiled surreptitiously, a bit of joyful anticipation filling him at seeing that wide amazed look which was bound to come onto Morty's face when he saw this world. There was something pleasing about being able to put that look on Morty's face, to see the childish innocence of his curiosity and amazement. It didn't come though, Morty staring at the ground, eyes dull and body hunched. Rick frowned.

"C-Come on Morty, haven't got all day. We gotta get meet up with Gizzard Brains, the biggest chicken of them all, he's the prelate of Kluck Klucky."

Morty didn't say anything, just giving a tiny nod. Rick's frown grew but he still turned, walking down the street as every passing chicken eyed them with suspicion and distrust. Rick kept waiting for Morty to make some comment about the chickens, but Morty was silent and disinterested, it was making it difficult to enjoy the hilarity that was a chicken giving him a stare down.

They made their way to the tallest spire and Rick easily entered, by accident he'd kind of sort of saved the entire population of the world, accidentally making them a cure to an epidemic which had threatened the entire species. Rick chuckled to himself, he'd been really drunk for that.

They were greeted by a secretary chicken who took them into an elevator which went to the top floor. Once there, they were ushered into an office where a Cochin chicken sat behind a desk, golden feathers primped grandiosely.

"Heeyyya, Gizzard Brains, long time no see, my mcnugget friend."

Gizzard Brains let out a cluck and got up, extending a wing out.

"Hello, my friend, you look older than last time I saw you."

"Yeah, well, y-you're no spring chicken yourself."

The bad humor went over Gizzard Brains head, but Rick had really said it for the benefit of himself and Morty. Morty however didn't crack a smile, appearing to not even being paying attention. Rick's smile faded and he continued on with his meeting.

They left soon enough, a much needed material in Rick's coat pocket and nothing dangerous having occurred. They climbed into the ship and headed home, Morty immediately going to his room. Rick hadn't overlooked the fact that Morty hadn't spoken a single word.

Rick tried to work on his project, the material he'd gotten from Gizzard Brains a part of his effort to rework his portal gun, but his mind couldn't let alone the fact that something was definitely wrong with Morty. Letting out a frustrated breath he slammed his gun down, and ran hand through his hair.

"Stupid little shit," he grumbled under his breath before making his way out of the garage and up the stairs.

He opened Morty's door without knocking and walked in to Morty sitting on his bed, looking out the window with his arms wrapped around his knees.

"W-what are you doing, Morty?"

Morty looked over at Rick, eyes the same wide, empty as before. Morty shrugged, starting to get up and pulling on his shoes. They stood there awkwardly, apparently Morty thought they were going on an adventure. Rick narrowed his eyes and just looked at his grandson who was standing, looking at the ground. Morty was still hunched on himself, nervous and completely following Rick without complaint.

"I aBLUuurghsked you a question, Morty."

Morty shrugged once again. Rick tried to think of what had happened, Morty was usually always with him and Morty was honestly too thick skinned to be bothered by what happened at school. Morty had been by his side, so, Rick stopped. Morty hadn't, at the Citadel of Ricks, Morty had been by himself for several hours. Rick frowned, the Citadel was supposed to be safe for Mortys.

"N-Not speaking, that was this is, yo-you think that'll help?"

Morty didn't respond, gaze still fixed on the floor.

Rick got angry, a very good response in his opinion to most things next to apathy and dismissal. He stepped forward, shoving Morty so that his grandson fell to the floor.

"You not g-gonna talk, that it, Morty, think that'll solve your problems!? Make make 'em go away!? It's stupid Morty, real stupid! You-yo-"

Rick stopped short because Morty was shaking from where he was on the floor, absolutely terrified of Rick. Rick backed off, blinking as it made sense. Morty was terrified, of him. Then the strange smell from yesterday came back to him and he realized that he knew what it was: Fix'er All. It was a low-density polymer which had a low melting temp, a thermoplastic like it could be applied and would melt due to the skin's temperature, it healed basic injuries on carbon based life forms nearly instantly and was a commonly used invention of Ricks and was genearlly only used by Ricks.

Someone had hurt Morty, someone who knew enough about Mortys to hurt his Morty bad and then had the brains and ability to make it look like nothing had happened. A Rick had done this. Anger coursed through Rick, someone had hurt Morty.

They stood there, in silence. Morty still cowering on the ground while Rick tried to rein in his anger. It took a few minutes before he could stop clenching his fists and grinding his teeth. Finally though he was back in control, anger channeled into his thinking rather than his physical response. Rick crouched down next to Morty, hand extending out to his grandson. Morty flinched, then hesitantly took his grandpa's hand.

Gently he pulled Morty to his feet, setting a hand on his shoulder. Morty was staring up at him, a hint of confusion in his gaze. Rick stood with his hand there before pulling Morty into a hug. Morty was stiff at first before he relaxed. It lasted a few moments before Rick pulled away.

He left then, not looking back, knowing that Morty was watching him go. Rick headed down the stairs, brushing past Jerry who tried making a snide comment before frowning in confusion and then slight fear, he'd never seen Rick walk that way before, cold and straight, with purpose and danger that made Jerry remember that his wife's father was a terrorist and mass murderer, someone, who according to the gromflomites, had committed countless crimes.

Rick was often latently dangerous, a hazard like an out of control car is, not intentional. This was different, intent to harm and destroy, every part of his mind thinking of the best way to kill. Jerry was terrified by it and stuttered out an apology that was ignored as much as his insult had been.

Rick swept into the garage, assembling a few items. He pocketed a few homemade bombs, grabbed some strange liquids in small vials, and several other things. The last thing he grabbed was his portal gun. Rick pointed his portal gun, firing and then stepping through the circular green portal.

Rick 90-PL-0008 was a Rick who was notoriously good at paperwork, as such he'd been placed in the Citadel customs center, having to process all the Ricks that wanted to go in and out of the Citadel. Looking in boredom at the next Rick in line he droned out the usual question about paperwork.

The papers were slid over the desk. He looked at the papers and then blinked as he saw the dimension name of the Rick he was servicing, C-137. He blinked. Looking up he took in the Rick before him. C-137 was famous, well more of infamous, but still, this was unusual.

"C-137?" 90-PL-0008 asked, still unsure if this was 'the rogue' standing in front of him, filling out paperwork.

"Just what it says on the paper, dumbass."

90-PL-0008 just nodded.

"Purpose of visit?"

"It's on the friggin' paper, moron."

"Purpose of visit?"

Rick glared at him, non-existent patience gone. A moment passed before C-137 acquiesced.

"Council sanctioned revenge."

90-PL-0008 raised a brow but nodded again.

"Oooookay. Head on in."

Rick glared at the customs Rick before moving quickly off. 90-PL-0008 watched him go, intrigue and curiosity in his gaze. Revenge, huh? Laws in the Citadel were a little different than Earth law, here revenge was encouraged and promoted, they had a way of determining how much revenge you could get and supplied resources to exact it. The way they figured, Ricks were going to do it anyway, why not stop it from being a law enforcing headache? This Rick had given him the willies though, with a cold gaze and his unfortunate connection to those horrifying rickicides. 90-PL-0008 was glad that cool gaze had no patience for him, he pitied the men who had invoked the ire of a Rick without moral restraint and governed by no laws.

Rick made his way into the formal part of the Citadel, headed for the records section. He passed the entrance and then ducked behind the building. Rick approached one of the many windows of the government building before finding the one he wanted, slamming his elbow into it, he shattered the glass. The occupants of the room looked up in startled fear, some sort of stupid meeting going on. Rick then proceeded to pull out one of his handmade bombs and throw it in through the broken window.

A few seconds later it exploded, letting a bright yellow gas flood the room. Rick moved back through the building, tugging the baseball cap he had on off and throwing it to the side. He waited ten seconds before walking into the records building. Once he was in the foyer the alarms in the building went off and Ricks came pouring out. Rick ignored them, pulling a gas mask from a bag he had and putting it on. The thick yellow smoke began coming from out of a door that burst open, Ricks coughing and stumbling to get away from it. It spread quickly, overtaking the hallway Rick was walking down.

He appeared a figure, silent and steady, alien with the mask on and hazy from the thick yellow smoke which blurred the view. He entered one of the rooms, one lined with large, ceiling tall computers. The control screen was at the center, placed on a desk that had a chair at it. Rick sank into it and then proceeded to hack the computer. He found what he wanted quickly.

The video image was clear, two Ricks who grabbed his Morty and dragged him to an alley, beat on him a little and then took him to a rent-a-room. Rick downsized the video and brought up something else. A few minutes later, the only sounds the loud, shrieking wail of the siren and the fast paced click of computer keys, a page turned up. On it were two pictures of Ricks, a JP-98 and Epsilon Epsilon 55590. Pushing a chip into the computer, Rick typed a few more things. A few moments passed before he unplugged the chip and got up. He placed the chip in his portal gun. Rick drew the gun up and fired, the large portal coming into existence. Without a word he stepped through.


	3. Chapter 3

Rick was let out in a motel room on a seedy pit stop. The two Ricks were seated on their beds watching tv, Rick quickly fired his other gun, paralyzing the one farthest away before hitting the other in the head with his gun. The one Rick fell off the bed, paralyzed by the shot, while the other fell back, momentarily stunned. Rick pounced on him, immediately beginning to wail on the Rick, punching him over and over again until his face was bloody and he was unconscious. Rick was panting from exertion when he stepped back, knuckles bruised and bloody.

The next few minutes involved Rick injecting both men with a type of sedative which would allow them to be conscious but unable to move. He knew they wouldn't wake up for a few minutes, so he began his search of the room.

It was difficult, looking at the Ricks and then thinking about his grandson. He knew who the bastards were, after thinking back in his memory. On the file it had stated that neither had Mortys, both having lost them during a tragedy which he had instilled. Ricks never forgave, held a grudge bigger than a gromflomite's ego, and Rick knew that, it was why he was here after all. Guilt weighed heavy on him though, Morty wasn't supposed to get hurt, have that awful gaze put on his face and be terrified of his own grandpa, it made Rick's heart clench painfully at the thought, his guilt overwhelming.

Rick frowned, pausing over a memory chip he found in one of the Ricks' bags, it was a video and audio, simplistic and designed for recording. Rick paused a moment before taking the chip in his hand and walking over to the complementary entertainment set that sat on the wall, it was similar to a tv but in this dimension it had a few extra components. He switched off the show that was playing and then inserted the chip.

What flicked onto the screen was a video, it was in a rent-a-room, his Morty being held down on the bed, cries muffled by a hand pressed onto his face by the Rick holding him down. The other Rick apparently had the recording device, the camera view jostling before being righted and set on a firm, flat surface. The other Rick stepped back and then went over to the bed, a knife in hand, where Morty was being held down.

Rick watched Morty bite the hand over his face, causing the Rick to pull his hand back, Morty screamed, his grandpa's name falling out of his mouth in agonizing terror. Rick clenched his fists from where he was watching this. The Rick punched Morty in the face, Morty's nose was broken and blood began gushing out, yet Morty was still screaming for his grandpa to help him.

Rick felt unwanted tears in his eyes, hands trembling at the fact that Morty had called him for help and he had never come. He knew that he got side tracked, was a complete asshole, and many times allowed Morty to get caught and experience pain all for a laugh or to appease his libido. But every time Rick came, he never let it get too far. It seemed though that his negligence had caught up to him and Morty had been the one to pay. It was a bitch of a thing and hurt, hurt to watch Morty be injured by hands so like his own while he did nothing.

The video continued, it got worse, the Ricks saying things to Morty that weren't too far from things Rick himself had said to Morty before or had implied through his actions. It got worse, Rick flinching away at particularly terrible cries and things done. He had to vomit one time, stomach unable to take what he was seeing. Bent over a garbage can, vomit dribbling from his mouth, he forced himself to keep watching because this had happened to Morty and it had been his fault. It seemed the least he could do was make sure he saw and knew everything, to be able to know what Morty was struggling through.

The worst probably was the continuous command for Morty to shut up, always paired with an insult telling Morty he was worthless, pathetic, or something else along those lines. Morty kept calling for Rick, until he didn't. At some point, he gave up and Rick could see it, one snapping moment of being told to shut up and that he mattered nothing to Rick, Morty had given up. Somehow Rick had enough left in his stomach to vomit again. It went on, a video over two hours long. Rick made himself watch it all.

It finally clicked off, the room being thrown into a complete and heavy silence. The other two Ricks had come around, the injection Rick had given them making them unable to do anything besides breath and move their eyes. They weren't able to speak. He was shaking, so undone by the experience, it made him feel weak and pathetic, all those times he'd been accused of being heartless and evil coming to mind. He'd let this happen.

Anger is a limiting emotion, Rick understood that, it had little thought and generally lead to bad decisions. This time though, Rick let it envelop him, anything he was feeling had to better than feeling what he was now after watching that. Rick opened his bag, rummaged for a few seconds, and then withdrew an injector, the vial attached was filled with a thick purple liquid. The Ricks in front of him couldn't respond much to anything but Rick could see the instant fear that arose from what he'd taken from his bag. His own twisted grin grew, white teeth like tombstones appearing across the open lips in the form of what one could say was a smile.

"W-who should go first, gentlemen?" The sinister voice, nearly free of any slur or stutter was chilling and predatory.

Rick approached the Rick from dimension Epsilon Epsilon 55590, he had seemed the more active of the two, the other Rick tending to sit back and watch, though the two had both been pretty 'involved'.

Rick crouched down, holding the injector up, that smile still slashed across his face.

"You know what thi-this, what it is?"

Of course the Rick couldn't answer, the rhetoric however was effective. The eyes widened, and while the face remained slack, Rick could read the fear.

"Th-that's right, bastard, d-dark matter, diluted dark matter. Know what that does to a being?"

Again, rhetoric, no less effective, those eyes dilated and unblinking as they held Rick's unswerving gaze.

"I'm sure y-you know perfectly, huh, know exactly what it does. Concentrates on every pain receptor and goes, heads to fucking town. We've b-been across the universe, multi-verse, nothing as painful as diluted dark matter. Dilute it 'cause it doesn't kill as f-fast."

Rick flicked the needle point gently as he partially depressed the injector, purple liquid oozing out, the action removing any possible air bubbles from the mixture. Rick's gaze watched the viscous material trail down the needle before he turned his gaze back on the Epsilon Epsilon 55590 Rick.

"Wouldn't want you to get an air embolism?"

He then trailed the needle on the man's arm, letting the purple liquid smear across his skin. The effect was instantaneous, pain awakening in the man's gaze. Then Rick slipped the needle into the skin, and depressed the injector.

"Oh, and by the way, your paralyzing agent, it'll wear off in a few minutes, don't wanna miss you thrashing around."

Rick stood up from Epsilon Epsilon 55590 and moved to the other Rick, JP-98. His anger was still palpable, rage and fury making a storm of a man who had the power to destroy, create, and rebuild the universe, but was usually too drunk to do so. The paralyzing agent was beginning to wear off on this Rick, fingers twitching desperately, and face beginning to move. He was still incapacitated. Rick started to go through his bag again when JP-98 spoke in a hoarse whisper.

"I, fucking loved it."

Rick froze and looked over at JP-98.

"H-he, just, like other Mortys," the Rick took in a weak breath, voice still soft and barely audible,

"worthless."

With that Rick saw red. Before he knew it minutes had passed and then his eyes were focusing and pain was flashing through his hands and knuckles. He was straddling the Rick, blood now covering the Rick's face, and more than one broken bone evident from the funny position of his jaw and the way his nose didn't quite look like a nose anymore. The Rick was barely conscious. Rick let out a scoff of disgust and got to his feet, he'd broken one of his fingers, definitely dislocated his ring finger on the right hand. By now the other Rick, Epsilon Epsilon 55590 was writhing in pain on the floor.

Rick hadn't meant to do that, he looked down at his hands, quickly popping the finger into place into place. He went to his bag, satisfied that this time there was probably too much blood in the Rick's throat for him to speak, he quickly pulled out another vial of diluted dark matter and swapped it with the empty vial in the injector. With less theatrics he knelt down and placed the needle to the skin of the beaten Rick, the effect was again instantaneous, the Rick's body beginning to shake from the pain.

Rick stood up, looking for a moment at his work. Then he went to the side of the room, pulled a chair from the desk and took it to the center of the room, where he could watch both Ricks. Rick sunk into the chair, eyes glazed over as he looked at the Ricks' violent seizures on the floor. With barely a sound he pulled his flask from his pocket, fingers now swelling and bruises becoming more prominent on the thin, callused and scarred hands. He took a long swig, knowing that he had a healing cream in his bag and not caring. In some way the pain was soothing, especially as he remembered with detail, in only the way a genius can, his grandson's face as he was torn apart in every conceivable way.

Eventually the seizures died, bodies stilling and eyes filling with the emptiness that was death. Rick sat a few more moments, finishing off his flask and starting on the alcohol that any good Rick would always carry with him. The satisfaction was empty, just as the bodies were, the deed not undone and the sick reality he lived in very much the same. That was the crux of life, once grief and pain were dealt there was no taking it back, it was an ultimate failing of science, the fact that no one could resurrect the dead and every event was set in the stone of existence. It was the one fact that Rick had forever run from.

Eventually he stood and gathered his things, not taking the time to hide the evidence of his murder. The council of Ricks would be outraged at first, of course they would, however when they investigated further it would all come to a stop. Rick pulled the chip from the entertainment set and set it on the floor in front of the bodies with a note written on a paper pulled from a Fleebian Holy book. It read:

'Revenge should have no bounds'

Rick would deny it, but he was all for theatrics, all for making a point. Especially this point. He had no qualms with what he'd done, no regret.

Taking a moment to look at the scene, Rick fired his portal gun and stepped through it. It didn't take him back to his house, he wasn't a good grandpa like that, instead it was a bar, one where he planned on getting wasted and then possibly shooting himself up with the third vial of diluted dark matter that was in his bag. Maybe he wouldn't though, mind constantly thinking of a yellow shirt and wide eyes, along with the laughable sexuality of a teenage boy; his mind stayed put on the fondness he felt and now the irrepressible regret. For one of the few times in his life, Rick wasn't sure this was something he could fix.

Morty hadn't been expecting a hug, he hadn't really been expecting anything. Right now he was fighting too hard to not remember, especially when what seemed like the very face who'd done it all was sitting at his dinner table eating food his mom had prepared. He knew his Rick hadn't done anything to him, wouldn't. But the words 'worthless' and 'pathetic' had more weight than before. For once he didn't deliberate and weigh the words, trying to think if his grandpa meant them or just said them for the hell of it and because he was a mean bastard of a drunk. Now they were true in his head, pounded into him.

He shouldn't talk, everyone had been telling him that his whole life, bullied for stuttering, yelled at for giving the wrong answer to a question, told he was stupid so 'shut up'. No one listened to begin with, Morty knew that, his parents hadn't ever done it, even though they pretended to. He had liked Rick because at least his grandpa had been honest about it. Now though, now he was too tired to try or care, vivid memories never leaving his mind.

Morty curled up on his bed, a small hope pinning itself in his mind, Rick had hugged him. Maybe that was worth a little bit.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I just realized that I hadn't ever gotten around to posting the last chapter. Many apologies to any who have stuck around to read it.

Rick was somewhere past wrecked, so wasted he wasn't sure his liver was going to survive the night. He blacked out somewhere along the way and had woken up to a sharp prod in the ribs. He blearily opened his eyes, a bartender was standing over him, broom lifted in his hand as though he was intent on wielding it again. Their gazes met for a moment before Rick promptly rolled to his side and vomited all of the bartender's shoes. The broom met with his side again in a quick blunt pain.

Rick snarled something out, before unsteadily climbing to his feet. His head hurt and his mouth tasted worse than shit. He needed a drink, shaking hands pawed at his inner pockets of his lab coat, withdrawing his flask. Rick groaned in pain and frustration when he realized it was empty.

Ushered out into the street by the broom wielding bartender, Rick pulled his portal gun out. It lead to the garage. Groaning he flopped down on his desk, eyes clenched shut and trying to drown out the pain in his head, he fumbled around for some of his spare alcohol, managing to find a bottle and immediately opening it and drinking half of it. He sat for a few minutes, trying to find pleasure in the fact that he'd gotten revenge, instead he was left with a dull empty feeling.

A knock sounded on the garage door, Rick turned his head to glare at it. The door opened and Summer walked through the door, her manner was more timid than usual.

"Uh, grandpa Rick?"

Rick just turned, head hurting too much to give a verbal response. Summer looked worried, she stepped further into the garage. Great, Rick thought to himself, Summer had been thinking.

"Grandpa, I know, I know you and Morty do stuff and not everything is safe or, well, happy. Stuff happens, but, something's really wrong with Morty, really wrong. And-"

Summer grew a little more bold, timidity dying, "I know you had something to do with it," she paused a moment, "and I know you think it's your fault, but it probably isn't and even if it is, it's not all your fault, shit happens, you taught me that. We get to choose what we do with the shit that does happen. You taught me that too."

Rick didn't respond, despite the eyes looking at him, searching for an answer. Summer's lip trembled just a little before tightening, a determined but accepting look coming onto her face.

"So just, fix it, Grandpa Rick. Fix Morty."

With that she stepped out of the garage and walked back into the house. Rick let out a sigh, face pulling in misery. Sitting up, he ran a shaky hand over his face and took out the rest of the bottle with another long pull. Setting the bottle on the table he stood up, it was time to go face the mess he'd created.

After wandering the lower story of the house, running into Jerry who was doing some stupid golf thing while he played with his food and Rick consequently insulting the man, he moved to the foot of the stairs. Walking up was like a painful sentence to death, Rick's mistakes haunted his every waking moment, now this was just one more horror in which he was wholly responsible. Every instinct told him to run, leave now and not face the consequences. But this was Morty, someone who could make him feel like his heart was going to explode when the turd did something to almost get killed, make him feel the soft tendrils of fondness when he looked at him with wide adoring eyes, made him laugh from how stupid Morty could be and mattered too much to just leave.

Rick opened Morty's door and walked in, but Morty wasn't in there. Rick frowned. Morty's backpack was on the ground and a yellow shirt was crumpled on the ground. Rick picked it up and saw blood trailing down the front of it. Things formed in his mind, and Rick dropped the shirt, moving toward the bathroom. Without knocking he opened the door. Morty startled, large eyes staring at his grandpa for a moment before they calmed at seeing who it was.

Morty's nose was bloody, and a bruise was starting to bloom around both his eyes. The area of the face is swollen, distorted from the damage and Rick can spot the pack of ice on the bathroom sink along with a towel. Morty currently has a wet paper towel in his hand, part of it streaked with blood from where he was trying to wipe his face clean. He was doing a poor job of it.

Rick reached a hand out to grab the paper towel, Morty flinched and Rick's hand stopped. A moment later Rick continued, grabbing the paper towel from Morty's hand and began gently dabbing at Morty's face. It looked pretty bad and Rick grimaced. Morty's gaze was on the floor.

"Got, uh, got knocked around a little, huh Morty?" The tone was genial, but it was fractured by Rick's own faltering hold on his despair and guilt.

Morty didn't reply. Rick continued, his own silence falling once again. Once Morty's face was clean, Rick grabbed the ice and handed it to Morty who immediately placed it against his face.

"C-c'mon to the garage, I've got something for that, that nice shiner."

Morty again didn't respond. It physically hurt to see Morty so shut down. They headed down the stairs, not interrupted by meeting anyone on the way and finally made it into the garage. Rick guided Morty to a chair and sat him down, being much more gentle and assertive than he usually was with his grandson.

Heading to his desk he began rummaging through one of the drawers until he found what he was looking for. Pulling it out, Rick paused, Fix'er All was really effective, one of the better healing agents, but he had no idea how Morty would react to it being used on him again, even if it was for his good. Rick tossed it back in the drawer and shut it, heading over to his storage and beginning to pull down a box, he had something else he could use. He found it quickly enough, some pills he had which would heal Morty right up.

Rick turned and went back over to Morty, offering out the pill. Morty took it, not looking at Rick.

"Look, Morty, I-I, how did you get your black eye?"

Morty gave a tiny shake of his head. Rick already could probably guess what had happened, some kind of bullying at school. Rick ran a hand through his hair, feeling completely powerless, he didn't know how to help Morty, wasn't even sure if he could or if he was just doing more damage this way. A part of him wondered if it would be better for the both of them if he just left. The thought grew as he looked over at Morty who looked like an abused puppy.

The bruises had already started to fade and Morty looked a little better. Rick went back to his drawers and pulled out a small pistol shaped device, walking over to Morty he handed it to him.

"Use this, next time, Morty. It'll, It'll knock 'em out, take'em down for you." Rick held back a heavy sigh as Morty just gave a small nod in return.

"It'll keep you safe."

Rick watched Morty go, scuttling from the garage with the device in his hand. Rick wished more than anything he could do more, but this, what those Ricks had done, he wasn't even sure how to approach it let alone fix it.

Life has a surprising way of still going forward, even after an event which seems to have ended the world. Beth raised concerns over Morty's sudden silence, Jerry blamed Rick and each time Rick didn't deny it, and each time Beth rose to his defense and the couple began arguing. Neither parent actually did anything to help. Summer continually sent glances Rick's way, an unspoken prompting to do something and Morty stayed terrifyingly quiet, flinching at everyone's touch and avoiding eye contact with everyone. The bullying also seemed to have gotten worse, and Rick had slipped some of the healing pills into Morty's backpack when no one was looking, at least this way the bruises never lasted long. He was still hesitant to bring Morty on an adventure, but at last he did.

It was supposed to be a simple adventure, go off in the spaceship, cruise around for a wreck and then do some plundering, easy peasy. It had even started off good, finding a wreck relatively quickly in the first few minutes of driving. The large ship was a transport, apparently loaded with all sorts of useful stuff Rick wanted. The ride there was awkward, silence being the only thing the two could manage.

They docked and started combing through the abandoned ship, finally hitting up the jackpot in some particular item that Rick needed. It really had been going perfectly, Rick noting that Morty looked a little less tense as they did the menial task, even turning to Rick and giving him a small smile when Rick made a joke. Maybe, he had thought, maybe he could do this, fix Morty.

Then it had all gone to shit, some sub galactic wannabe police force had bordered and started shooting. Rick had barely any time to grab Morty and pull him down a hall. He knew this would loop around to their ship, and hopefully they would be able to get away without any damage. So actually the adventure hadn't quite gone to shit, getting shot at was pretty normal for them. It was when they ran into another group of the same police force. Rick swore, doubling back and yanking Morty behind a corner.

"Shoot, Morty, Shoot!"

Morty obeyed, fumbling with the laser gun and pointing it at the advancing guys. His shots caused them to halt their advance and hide behind things and begin firing back.

Rick took a few seconds to program his portal gun before turning to grab Morty and pull his grandson into the portal with him. He froze though when he saw the scene that was behind him. Morty was being held tightly by one of the police, a gun trained on his head and terror in his eyes. If Morty had warned Rick, said something, they could've escaped this. Morty was bleeding from his head, shaking and pale. Rick tensed, mind racing. He hadn't used the gun yet, he still could, get out before they could get him but that would mean leaving Morty. Rick would rather die. So that meant thinking, something Rick was pretty good at.

The portal gun was in his hand, and out of view of the police. Rick discreetly tucked the portal gun into his lab coat and turned the rest of the way around, both hands in the air.

"I-it's alright, guys, un-unarmed."

The police came forward and just grabbed him, a gun to his head, no other defenses. Rick nearly smiled, these poor assholes probably hadn't ever heard of him in their sad corner of a galaxy. All to his advantage.

Rick let them rough handle him so that he was walking side by side with Morty, guns pointed at both of their backs. A conversation was going on, luckily for Rick it was in a more standardized language, one he was familiar with just enough to get a decent understanding of their words. The idiots really didn't know who he was, they assumed the two were just alien scavengers preying on abandoned vessels. Rick waited a few minutes, not enough for them to meet up with the next group but enough for the aliens around him to lower their guard, before he made his move. Quickly spinning around, he shouted Morty's name and watched out of the corner of his eyes as Morty dropped to the ground. He disarmed the one guard, efficiently snapping his arm and then shoved him into the other guard that had a gun. Before the other police could react he had his portal gun out and pointed at the floor. Him, Morty, and the body of one of the guards fell through into a random world Rick had picked.

He scrambled to his feet, quickly punching a button of the portal gun and then pulling him and Morty through so that they landed on their asses in the garage.

Morty was trembling on the ground, fresh blood streaming down his face from his head wound. The adrenaline left Rick buzzing and the fear he had for Morty was quickly morphing into anger.

"What the fuck was that, Morty!"

Morty's eyes grew wide and he ducked his head.

"You coulda, you coulda gotten killed you shit! You should have said something, we got, we got reaaall lucky this time, real lucky. Next time though, you open your fat mouth Morty, and you use it, you piece of shit."

Morty was crying and Rick blinked. Immediately he began cussing himself out in his head, he'd seen that video, heard what those Rick's had said to Morty, the words were painfully similar.

"Shit," Rick exclaimed, wanting to take it back.

He raked a desperate hand through his hair, wanting to pull the coarse strands out.

"I'm not, Morty, I'm no good, this-this-" Rick's hands gestured between the two, at the world in general.

Rick stared at Morty who was shaking on the floor, tears still flowing and fear in his eyes. Rick knew he was a piece of shit, knew that Rick Sanchez was the worst imaginable being to exist. He hated himself fully, sometimes with a sort of pride for how well he hated himself. But this, Rick was no good and if he cared about Morty he would leave because the only thing he could do was screw his grandson up even more.

"I can't, I can't-Morty," Rick cried in despair.

Tears of his own came to his eyes and he felt his own inadequacy fill him up. He needed to leave, to run, to not hurt Morty anymore and to stop screwing up the things he loved.

"I gotta go," He said quietly, hand going for his portal gun.

Turning to his work table he opened a drawer and grabbed a bag, he needed a few things and then he would split, leave his family alone and let them be happier without him. He knew he'd have to be on the run, non-stop, from the Galactic Federation, but it didn't seem to matter. He just needed to leave. The tears began to run more freely, blurring his vision.

Morty looked up in slight alarm to see Rick with the portal gun in hand, a satchel thrown across his shoulder. Rick was crying.

Rick opened a portal, hesitating to walk through, he started to step forward when a sound stopped him.

"Stay," it was quiet and soft, barely audible, but desperate.

Rick turned to see Morty getting to his feet, still shaking and still obviously upset, but with his eyes glued on Rick, a pleading look in his gaze.

"Please," this was just as quiet.

Rick froze, "Morty, I-"

He didn't finish the sentence because Morty threw himself at Rick, wrapping his arms around Rick's waist.

"Stay," Morty said again.

Rick felt something snap, the strange inability to understand that Morty needed him, to believe that he was something good. The tears poured out faster and Rick sunk to his knees, clinging to Morty and sobbing as Morty pressed his face against Rick's chest.

"I'm not going anywhere, not leaving, Morty, won't go, not yet." Rick gasped out between sobs, feeling as Morty's own tears wet his shirt.

**Author's Note:**

> Everyday millions of spaghetti cans suffer, what are you doing to help?


End file.
